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Words by the Wayside

By James Rhoades

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The Marseillaise
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130

The Marseillaise

Sons of the Motherland, arise!
The day of glory dawns on high!
Up floats defiant to the skies
The blood-stained flag of tyranny!
Do ye not hear how hard at hand
The ruffian soldiers roar and ramp?
Into your very midst they tramp
Your sons to ravage and your land!
To arms, my countrymen!
Form up to meet the foe!
March on, march on, their tainted blood
Shall make our furrows flow!
March, march we on, their tainted blood
Shall make our furrows flow!
What would this recreant slavish herd
Of traitors and confederate kings?
For whom were these vile chains prepared,
For whom, long since, these iron rings?
For us, my comrades, ah! the shame!
What fury in your breasts should burn!
'Tis you they dare in thought to spurn,
And, as of old, for bondsmen claim!
To arms, my countrymen! &c.
What! we within our homes to cower
While alien troops bid come and go!
What! mercenary hordes have power,
To lay our gallant warriors low!
Great God! by caitiff-hands shall we

131

Beneath a conqueror's yoke be bowed,
And take these vile oppressors proud
As masters of our destiny?
To arms, my countrymen! &c.
Quake, tyrants, and ye traitors too,
Scorned and abhorred of all mankind!
Full soon their retribution due
Your parricidal plots shall find!
Each man's a soldier you must fight,
And, should our youthful heroes fall,
From her own bosom earth would call
A warrior-brood for battle dight!
To arms, my countrymen! &c.
O love of country, Power divine,
Guide and uphold our vengeful hand!
Freedom, dear Freedom, still combine
With those who for thine honour stand?
Beneath our flags let Victory
To wreak thy burning wrongs arise,
And, dying, may the foeman's eyes
Thy triumph and our glory see!
To arms, my countrymen!
Form up to meet the foe!
March on, march on, their tainted blood
Shall make our furrows flow!
March, march we on, their tainted blood
Shall make our furrows flow!